


An Old Story

by chanting_lotus



Series: There is a Boy in the Woods [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mystery, POV Second Person, but i guess you can read this one as a standalone, you really should read the first one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:06:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24632788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanting_lotus/pseuds/chanting_lotus
Summary: If you were asked to explain what happened, all those years ago, it would go something like this:Stiles is your best friend. He has been your best friend the whole of both your lives, longer than your memory can serve.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: There is a Boy in the Woods [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1760419
Comments: 8
Kudos: 71





	An Old Story

If you were asked to explain what happened, all those years ago, it would go something like this: 

Stiles is your best friend. He has been your best friend the whole of both your lives, longer than your memory can serve. He is almost the most important person to you. You add this caveat—this almost—to be truthful. Your mother, Melissa, is more important, in some ways. Allison, your then-ex-now-dead-girlfriend, also ranked higher. 

When you turned, Stiles dove head in to help you. He sought whatever he could to ease your mind, your heart. Stiles gave you a name for what you were, but Allison gave you something infinitely more precious. The ability to control yourself. 

It is why, when the night is over, and the nogitsune is locked safe in a jar, you don’t look at him. You know it was not Stiles who killed your first anchor, your first love, your first everything but it wore his face. You are familiar with how he looks with blood in his teeth. 

You know the weight of his hand, settled on a blade in your stomach. You can never not know, not anymore. 

You allow Derek to ferry him away, though it sets your teeth on edge. You are a young, new Alpha yet, but you think it is normal to be disquieted by other Alphas. Something to do with territory and dominance. Something that would have sounded insane to you just a few years ago. 

At home, you take a shower. You count your breaths, lean on your pack bonds and use them to anchor yourself. The water keeps your mind steady. 

You lack a pack bond with Stiles, which hurt when you first realized. You feel immense relief for it now. You don’t want to know how he is feeling, not when your chest is cracked open itself. 

There is a saying that when it comes to grief, you should always dump out. Never complain to someone closer to the dead than you, never burden them. It could be argued that you and Chris are the closest. But it could be argued that Stiles is closer. 

You could not handle the burden then. 

Sleep comes early that night. You know you will have nightmares and you think to drink some of the tea Deaton gave you. The danger is not far enough behind for you, though, so you will suffer tonight. 

A worried—no frantic, crushed, panicking—pack bond startles you awake. You blink up to your darkened ceiling, moments before your phone starts ringing. When the madness first started, you were bad at keeping your phone on and charged. It is never below half battery now. 

Parrish manages to get out, Stilinski. That’s all you need to know, before you are throwing on clothes and running towards your bike. 

One of your pack bonds tug questioningly in your chest. You answer back in raw fear. You call Derek. Perhaps he is there, maybe whatever has occurred is a trick. Maybe whatever has set Parrish affright is no true issue to those in the house. 

When you get to Stiles’ house, it is a sight you will never forget. It is a technicolor picture, forever imprinted upon the back of your eyelids. Liam arrives and tries to block you. 

You can’t feel him. 

You will remember, distinctly, how you were glad earlier to not have the ability to sense Stiles. 

There is a tingle on the back of your neck, the one that causes your hair to stand up and your fangs to itch. Derek does not approach, and after a moment, the tingle dissipates. 

Derek is not there when they manage to put the flames out. Liam takes you away before they bring out the stretchers.

\--

Parrish tells you the next day that only one body was found. The Sheriff wasn’t working that night, had no other plans, and dental records will—soon enough in the future—tell you it was him. You know you can’t feel Stiles in your chest, but there is an Alpha in this town that can. 

You find Derek in the woods. He’s standoffish. It is not strange then. You do not know then, but this is the last time you will see his face. Perhaps you would have looked at him a little harder, memorized a little more. 

The nogitsune did something to him, Derek says. He doesn’t respond well to people. 

You don’t know what he means, but you want to tell him that you aren’t just people. Stiles and you had a bond. It was not a pack bond, but it was real and steady just the same. 

Derek leaves you for a moment, comes back as a wolf. You wonder if you will learn how to shift like him. You won’t, but you wonder in that time. 

He leads you through the woods, to the Hale house. It has never revealed itself to you easily. The woods are just as confusing and dark as the night you were bitten. When you leave this town, you will think that they purposely kept you out. As if they had already made the choice on which Alpha would stay. 

When you get to the door, Derek lets you enter first. You follow the scent of Stiles to the kitchen, where he is. 

Except it’s not Stiles. Like the nogitsune, the person before him has a face slightly too crooked, eyes indicating the lights aren’t on. That Stiles wasn’t home. He is covered in Derek’s scent, in the scent of the charred wood, and the citrus he devotes his attention to. 

Stiles, you call to him. He doesn’t respond. 

Until he does, looking and sizing you up. Seeing you as enemy. The last time you see Stiles’ face, it is covered in your own blood, scent fearful. He darts out the back door, the black wolf hot on his heels. 

This memory will not stay technicolor, like the house fire. You will forget where exactly his moles were, the shade of honey his eyes are, and where on his shirt the blood dripped. 

The wound closes while you stand in the husk of a home, waiting for Derek and Stiles to return. Dusk settles outside and you leave. You, more than most, know what can lurk in the woods at night. 

The walk back to your bike seems shorter than the walk to the house, as if the woods are happy to be relieved of you. 

\--

You tell Lydia, hoping that she’ll find a solution. She doesn’t, but she’ll spend the vast majority of the rest of her life looking for one. 

You don’t know this at the time. You, maybe, wouldn’t have involved her if you knew. 

\--

You go to Deaton. You ask your questions and let him ramble, vague and cryptic. He gives you and Lydia books to look over. 

You can’t find anything in the tomes. Stiles has been missing for two months, but Parrish had put him as deceased from the house fire. It is a precaution. 

Deaton pours into his own sources, coming up empty. You get increasingly more upset at the vet, at the man who was supposed to be your emissary. He is so much older than the rest of the pack and he does little to protect it. 

Little to help you.

You snap one night, head fuzzy from looking into ancient spirits for the last several hours. Deaton suggests that there may be nothing you can do, and you are out of your seat, claws firmly in his coat. 

It takes a moment to realize the wet, tearing sound is coming from your mouth. You drop Deaton. 

You will not go back, thinking you have ruined your future. A glowing recommendation letter will arrive in your mailbox before you go away to college. It will help you get an apprenticeship with a vet, away from this town, who is less entangled with the supernatural. 

That vet will help you get into vet school, but you do not know this yet. All you know, now, is that you were willing to kill Deaton for what he advises. And it scares you.

\--

You are running out of options. There is always one, that you hate to admit you have. Lydia and you agree that you will probably receive more questions than answers but that it may point you in a new direction. 

You visit Peter. 

If he is surprised to see you, he does not show it. They have him in a reinforced room, but his good behavior gives him time out in the garden. This is how he will escape, years from now, but this town will be a distant memory in your mind and him an even more distant memory still. For the first time, then, you will not pursue him. 

The younger you cannot understand this. 

You ask your questions and he says strange things, such as, I guess he must have wanted to keep Stiles. 

Or, he will never leave his side now. They will never leave. 

It makes no sense to you, and you wish you had brought Lydia. But when you relay what he said, she can make no more meaning of it than you. 

You admit, to yourself, that you’ve hit a dead wall. You will say it to Lydia, exactly once in several months, and she will hit you hard enough to draw blood. 

\--

You apply to schools far, far away from your town. You refuse to submit an application to the town community college. 

It is the only place Lydia submits hers. She stands at the podium, with Danny at her side, and gives a riveting graduation speech. You can tell there are those in the crowd that cry. 

This will be a precursor to her election speeches, but you do not know that yet. 

When you get an acceptance back, from a small school in Oregon, you reach out to other packs to take your betas. You have very few that need an Alpha, but they find homes regardless. 

Chris comes back into town in the summer before you leave. He gets a small apartment, even smaller than the one that he shared with Allison. You go over sometimes, and you two drink. 

You are not legal, but it cannot intoxicate you. 

Take care of them, you ask him. It’s a large request. 

Time will show how well he honors it. 

\--

You are in your first year of vet school when you meet her. She has dark hair, a loud laugh, and mischievous eyes. She reminds you of what you have lost. She is also a wolf. 

You let her meet your small pack, a group of three that you carefully selected throughout undergrad. They take to each other swimmingly. 

When you two get married, there is no worry that her hunter mother will kill you. There is no worry that your pack will crack and splinter over a sharp word from her. 

You find out that you are going to have a baby boy. You think, briefly, of naming it Sties. But then you would have to open the box that you haven’t even touched with her. 

You don’t tell her the name idea. Instead, you bury it inside you and hope that you can finally lay to rest the boy you left in the woods all those years ago. (You can’t.)

**Author's Note:**

> There will be one more piece, from Derek's POV in about three weeks to a month. 
> 
> I hope you've liked this piece.


End file.
